


Turning Point

by Talithax



Category: Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol (2011)
Genre: Embarrassment, Emotional Baggage, M/M, POV First Person, Self-Doubt, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 09:33:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4601763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talithax/pseuds/Talithax
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Both innocently and inadvertently, Ethan takes Will on an unwelcome trip down memory lane.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turning Point

**Author's Note:**

> ~ Narrated by Will & self-beta'd
> 
> ~ Possible trigger warning? (Hint of bondage & past abuse)
> 
> I honestly don't know if anyone else ever has this problem, but I feel caught in this absolute mass of indecision and doubt and have been dithering for ages over, well, posting anything. I have a small number of completed fics - but finding the inclination to so much as beta, let alone actually contemplating... posting... them, just... defeats me. I just... fall into this hole at times and it's really hard to break free of. So... I'm forcing myself to finally -- bite the bullet -- post something, anything, and, hey, this one just happened to 'win'. 
> 
> To everyone who has been recently leaving kudos on my older fics - thank you! In a way, as they've given me a tiny boost of confidence, this is for you.

===========  
Turning Point  
by TalithaX  
===========

 

Somehow managing to catch the sound of the bathroom door opening over the howling winds and torrential rain outside, I look up from the computer and watch Ethan as he walks in to the room. Fresh from a shower and with his hair still damp, he's clad only in a well worn pair of black cargo pants that sit low on his slim hips and I can't help but notice what a damn fine sight he makes. So good, in fact, that if it wasn't for the thought of either leading him on or giving him the wrong idea, I'd even let him know this by issuing forth with a wolf whistle of approval. Too hot, headachy, and quite frankly ill feeling to be in the mood for, well, just about anything at the moment though, I keep my mouth shut and settle instead for turning my attention back to the report I'm writing.

While the mission, for a nice change, is going completely to plan, the weather in Tokyo seems to have it in for us as instead of getting to spend the evening in Ethan's favourite karaoke bar like we'd originally planned, we're stuck here in a hotel room that's struggling under generator power while the worst typhoon in decades rages outside. The hotel's structure, or so we've been assured anyway, is perfectly safe as it survived the last typhoon of this one's magnitude, but given that the power is down in this part of the city its generator seems woefully underpowered for the demands being put on it and the effectiveness room's air conditioning is close to non existent. 

I know that we're not the only ones suffering, and that there's no doubt tens of thousands of people who are far worse off than we are, but the fact of the matter is that both the heat and the humidity are getting to me a little and I just don't feel well at all. The painkillers I took when we got back to the room an hour or so ago have barely put a dint in my headache, I feel as though I've already drunk enough water to be in danger of either floating away or having to spend the rest of the night within easy reach of the bathroom, and if the cold shower I plan on having once I've finished my report doesn't manage to make me feel any better, then...

Let's just say it's going to be a very long night.

It goes without saying that I'll survive, and I certainly have no intention of mentioning how ill I'm feeling to Ethan in case it makes him doubt my ability to see the mission through tomorrow, but, to put it bluntly, I'm both tired and completely over feeling this way. It doesn't matter that I've only felt unwell since I stepped out of the air conditioned comfort of Narita six hours ago, and that I know I'll immediately feel better once the weather breaks, as, again, I'm just over it. 

Ethan and I are alone in a hotel room, and instead of looking forward to the many pleasurable ways we could be spending our time I just want to pass out and put the day behind me.

And if that isn't a waste of a God given opportunity then, seriously, I don't know what is.

“You go through the rest of Smith's bag yet?” Ethan queries, glancing over at me from where he's standing by the foot of one of the twin beds as I slowly turn my head to face him.

“Not yet, no,” I reply. “I wanted to get my report written first.” 

“Don't worry about the bag, then,” Ethan responds, snatching the small black suitcase off the floor and dumping it on to the bed. “I'll do it while you finish your report.”

Shrugging, I once again turn my attention back to the laptop. “Enjoy.”

“Going through someone else's shit? Oh yeah... It's what keeps me going,” Ethan retorts. “Don't worry though, if I find anything interesting you'll be the first to know.”

“More like, I'll be the... only... one to know,” I mutter, focussing on the words on the screen before me as I ponder whether I may have missed anything. The day, hideous weather notwithstanding, having been as simple as it was successful, it's not even as though the report is either overly long or particularly detailed and I know, seeing as I don't have to submit it until after our meet tomorrow, that it wouldn't even matter if I were to just leave it 'as is' and turn the computer off now. Being, as Benji likes to call it when he doesn't think I'm within hearing range, nothing if not a perfectionist though I still want my draft, if that's what it ends up being, to be as good as I can get it and, with this in mind, I scroll up to the top of the page so I can read it over from the very beginning.

It doesn't, to my relief, take much reading and, with only a few word and punctuation changes here and there, once I've reached the bottom of the page I'm more or less content that it'll do for the time being. It's not great, and I know I've written better, but it'll do. It explains our day succinctly, doesn't leave anything out and, if it means I can stop staring at this far too brightly lit screen, I'm content enough with calling it quits for the evening. Besides, everything having truly gone to plan for once, it's not even as though it's ever going to make that fascinating a read for anyone anyway.

Land in Tokyo three-quarters of an hour before our target. Confirm that he's on the flight from London as planned and intercept both him and his suitcase in the arrival hall. Hand target to Jane and Benji to escort him back to the States and the lengthy prison term that's waiting for him there. Confirm, in our car outside Narita, that his suitcase contained the highly confidential government documents pertaining to the military and their latest advances in satellite surveillance, the one's he'd stolen from the Pentagon and had been going to sell to the highest bidder here in Tokyo, and, after reading the details on his phone of the hand-over planned to take place tomorrow, just... wait.

So far, so good, in other words.

The target's secure. The documents are secure. And tomorrow we hopefully get to both identify and take down the buyer.

“Well, this is certainly a surprise,” Ethan announces with what may well be a snort of amusement. “It appears our document stealing friend's plans for Tokyo extended further than just trying to make himself rich at the expense of our government.”

“Don't tell me, let me guess. He's actually in to cosplay and you've found a Sailor Moon costume in his bag,” I reply, my interest in the contents of Smith's bag coming a very poor second to how hot I'm suddenly feeling and how, if I don't do something, anything, in an attempt to cool down I may very well just melt in to a sticky puddle.

“Cosplay? Sailor... Uh... What on earth are you talking about?” Ethan responds with a noticeable hint of confusion in his voice. “For some reason I can't shake the feeling that Benji would know without having to ask, but...”

“I take it then that you didn't read the in-flight magazine during our flight,” I murmur, leaning forward and undoing the laces on my shoes before kicking them off. “If you had you'd know all about the... I suppose you'd call it, hobby... of making costumes of your favourite anime or movie or... whatever... characters in order to dress up in them and go to conventions and the like. Apparently it's... uh... very big here.”

“Uh-huh. While I thank you for making sure I've learnt my new... useless fact for the day in lieu of Benji being here to teach it to me, I think I'll just settle for saying... if you say so... and move on,” Ethan retorts. “Besides, you're wrong. Smith wasn't planning to get his... cosplay... on here in Tokyo and, going on the contents of his bag, was more looking forward to getting his... kink on.”

“His... what?” While I'm no more interested in what Ethan's found in Smith's bag than I was a moment ago, I am now at least a little curious as to what it is he's found and swivel around to face him. “Do I even want to know?”

“As there are things in here that even I don't know what their purpose is, probably not,” Ethan mutters, holding out what looks be a black silk blindfold towards me. “I mean, this, I get. I can even hazard a guess as to what he was planning to do with all the other strips of silk he's got shoved in here. Some of the other bits and pieces though? I'm just not going there.”

“Oh...” More taken aback by the surprising contents of Smith's bag than I want to let on, I give a casual shrug and turn back around to face the laptop. “It... It takes all sorts, huh...”

“Yeah, yeah. And to each their own and all that,” Ethan replies. “I suppose I just never would have thought it of Smith. Let's face it, the man didn't really seem to be overflowing with attributes and I'm just really struggling here to picture him being dominant enough to use this stuff on anyone.”

“Well, you know, it really does take all sorts,” I respond dismissively as, this really not being a conversation I want to be having, I rest my hands pointedly on the keyboard. “Look. I'm just going to finish my report, yeah...”

“So much for thinking you were going to come over and explain what all of these things are to me, then,” he laughs. “Seriously, Will. I'm disappointed. Seeing as you knew about cosplay of all things, I thought you might have...”

“Well I don't,” I state, abruptly cutting him off. I know Ethan's only teasing me and, that, because he's bored he just wants to have a little fun, but I can't do it. I can't just play along with laughing at the contents of Smith's bag because...

… It cuts far too close to memories I'd thought, no, make that, had hoped were long forgotten.

And I can't, I just can't go there.

And, while I'm at it, I certainly can't laugh or just make light entertainment out of it either.

“Anyone ever tell you that heat seems to make you crabby?” Ethan mutters in a mild tone that, thankfully, sounds more amused than it does pissed off. “I was just messing around.”

“I know.” Sighing, I look over at Ethan and flash him an apologetic smile. “And... You're right. I am hot, and I... I apologise for snapping at you. So... Uh... You enjoy whatever else it is you might discover in Smith's bag and I'll... just take my socks off in the hope of finally starting to feel a little cooler.”

“Don't let me be the one to stop you if you want to take more than just your socks off,” he replies with both a laugh and a wink. “Hey! Don't look at me like that. I'm just saying...”

Relieved that he appears to have moved on from the bondage paraphernalia in the bag, I roll my eyes and laugh. “Anyone ever tell you that you have a one track mind...”

“It... might... be something I've heard before.”

“Might? Just... might... be something you've heard before?”

“Okay, okay! Fine. I'll admit it. I'll admit that there are times when we're alone like this that, yes, my thoughts do automatically lead me in one direction...”

“They do, do they...” My earlier plan of just having a shower before collapsing on the bed wavering a little in the face of Ethan's obvious offer, I stall for time by leaning forward to take off my socks. While there's no denying there's part of me, the part that always wants Ethan in whatever way I can have him, that wants to just seize the moment and very much make the most of it, there's another part, the part that's feeling hot, bothered and sickly, that's telling me I'd probably be wise to decline. I mean, I'd hate to disappoint him or put in a lacklustre performance as that could possibly colour his opinion of me in terms of ever wanting to try again, and that, I can't help but think, would be even worse than just brushing him off tonight. Failing that, if he'd be prepared to wait while I had a nap I'd perhaps wake up feeling more ready to go and we could do it then.

Or...

Because it's what I do, what I've always done because I lack the ability to say no, I just go along with it anyway and simply hope for the best. It's not, after all, as though there isn't anything I wouldn't do for Ethan and, regardless of whatever his true feelings might be towards me, it's certainly not as though I don't love him, so...

If he wants me, he can have me. It might even be what I need to take my mind off the heat and how increasingly flustered I'm feeling.

My mind made up to just do whatever it is Ethan might ask of me, I pull my socks off and have just finished stuffing them in my shoes when, out of nowhere, a strip of silk is carefully placed over my eyes and tied behind my head. I'm then, as the shock of suddenly being rendered blind causes both my heart beat to increase and for a vile, dimly recalled sense of nausea to rise in my throat, gripped gently by the shoulders and pulled back against the chair.

“Do you trust me?” Ethan queries in a low whisper, his breath warm in my ear as he continues to press down on my shoulders.

I...

Oh God.

Of course I trust Ethan. I trust him with my life and I'd willingly do anything for him.

Anything...

… Other than this.

I know, that is... I'm confident that he won't hurt me, that this is all very spur of the moment to him and probably just a novel way to kill time, but I...

Not this.

I can't.

I love and trust Ethan, and even if he means more to me than I do to him, the past eight months since we became lovers have been special to me. I don't know if he's monogamous. Nor do I know if he sees me as anything other than simply convenient, a... means to an end, if you like. All I know, all I... allow... myself to know is that I love being with him. I love the feel of his hands and mouth on my body and, after not letting anyone do it to me for so long, I love it when I fully give myself over to him and he fucks me. I also love the look on his face when I bring him to climax and how, and it doesn't even matter if we've got somewhere else we should be, he takes the time to hold me afterwards. He holds me, and rubs my back, and we kiss, and I think, because I've been starved of these moments my entire sexually active life, I love these moments best of all.

But...

… This?

I don't know what he's got planned. I don't know what else he found in Smith's bag. I don't know if I can go through it.

I don't...

Not even for Ethan, who I trust with my life, do I think I can do this.

“Uh... Of course I trust you,” I nevertheless murmur, because, again, it's what I do. I say yes. I put my own needs secondary and lie because I'm afraid of what might happen if I don't. If this is what Ethan thinks he wants, what it is that's going to keep him interested in me, then I...

I have to go through with it. I have to remember that the hands on my body belong to Ethan and that...

… It can't be any worse than what I've already been through.

Ethan.

I...

I just have to remember that it's Ethan.

“So...” Leaning over my shoulders, Ethan glides his hands down the length of my chest and slowly pulls the bottom of my shirt out from the waistband of my trousers. “You trust me to do whatever I like to that gorgeous body of yours,” he states in a low, sensual growl as, sliding his hands under my shirt, he rests them flat on the bare skin of my waist. “You trust me to tie you to this chair and have my wicked way with you...”

“I...” Swallowing hard, I give a small nod. “I trust you.”

Of course I trust him. I just don't want what's coming, that's all. At the same time though, nor I do want him to know just how much I... don't... want it either.

I just...

Oh God.

I never wanted to be in this particular situation again.

“You have no idea how much I was hoping you'd say that,” Ethan replies, removing his hands from under my shirt and closing them around mine. “Come on. Let's get you up so I can both move the chair to a better position and get those trousers of you...”

A strange, curiously empty feeling settling over me, I nod again and – although what I really want to do is rip the blindfold off and just run – put up no resistance as Ethan slowly pulls me upright. Nor do I react when, after letting go of my hands, he unbuckles my belt, unzips my fly and pushes my trousers down my legs. Being nothing if not blandly accepting of my fate, I even step out of them without prompting and, once he's turned the chair around to a position more to his liking, allow myself to be seated without either comment or hesitation.

What...

… Will be will be.

The need to speak apparently having deserted Ethan, he remains silent as, clearly feeling the urge to make the most of Smith's collection of silk ties, he goes about his self imposed business of ensuring I can't go anywhere and really am at his mercy. Although he's gentle, and I truly suspect that if I was in any fit state to apply my training to freeing myself from the ties he's using to bind my wrists to the wooden arms of the chair that I probably could, the sensation of feeling myself being tied down is enough to cause both my breath to catch in my throat and for a sense of almost obliterating numbness to settle over me.

He...

He's doing this.

He's really doing this.

And I...

… I'm letting him.

I'm letting him... apply just enough pressure on my knees to get the hint that he wants me to spread my legs, and...

… I'm doing it.

I'm letting him tie my knees, not my ankles, but my knees because it will ensure that my legs are kept slightly spread and my cock and balls accessible at all times, to the legs of the chair, and, now that I'm effectively trapped, I'm letting him remove my one final avenue of escape by dutifully opening my mouth and accepting the gag he's placing between my teeth. 

This...

This is really happening.

Again.

It's happening again.

He...

Fuck!

What have I placidly allowed to happen here?

What if Ethan gets a taste for it, or, worse, what if he takes my easy acceptance to mean that this is what I'm in to?

Submissive. Almost pathetically easy to dominate. Never says no and just takes it.

With my mind racing in time with my heartbeat, I try desperately to focus on the fact that the fingers deftly undoing my shirt buttons belong to Ethan. That it's Ethan's hands pushing my shirt back over my shoulders to both expose my chest and effectively leave me naked save for the black cotton briefs that I just know I won't have on for much longer.

Ethan...

It's...

… Only Ethan.

Not...

… Him.

It's not him.

That was years ago. Two decades ago, even. And I'm a different person now. Ethan, he... asked, and I... chose... to go along with it. It was my choice. He didn't just take control without my permission and I could have said no.

I...

I should have said no.

Although the feel of Ethan's hands on my naked flesh is something I usually crave, now, as they travel up and down the length of my torso, caressing here, rubbing there, the feel of him touching me is almost enough to make my skin crawl. He's being gentle, and it's certainly not as though he's hurting me in any way, but I still hate it. I can't see his face, and because he's not talking, I can't help but fall prey to the insidious tendrils of doubt that are creeping in and preying on the back of my mind.

It's not Ethan.

Or, if it is, it's not the Ethan I know.

He's going to take things too far. He's not going to know when to stop.

I...

… Brought this on myself.

Too caught up in the mass of confusing thoughts in my head to be fully following what's going on, I don't even realise that Ethan's hands are no longer moving over my chest until I sense him walking back from the direction of the bed and kneeling down between my spread legs. This, courtesy of the great fear of the unknown in terms of what he's found to play with in Smith's bag, bringing with it it's own fresh injection of apprehension, I brace myself for what's to come and just hope that it's over with quickly.

Having done it or, more to the point, having survived it before, I can do it again.

And...

So what if I'm never able to look Ethan in the eyes again?

Something both cold and sharp being used to trail a very light path along my thigh very nearly causing me to jump out of my skin, I know immediately what's coming next and it's too much. My resolve to stoically see this through to the bitter end faltering, I... I can't cope. I can accept that it's ridiculous, that it's not as though Ethan's never seen me naked before, but I can't cope with the thought of him going so far as to... cut my briefs off. I know it's only part of the... play, and that he'd never use the knife in his hand to draw blood, but I...

I don't want...

Too late.

It doesn't matter what I want as it's too late.

Having used the knife to carefully slice through the leg of my briefs, Ethan's now both freeing and massaging my cock, and...

… I can't.

I just can't do this.

Free falling in to complete and utter panic, I arch my back and claw desperately at the arms of the chair. Remembering to breathe suddenly striking me as being optional, a sense of light headedness settles over me and, panting through the gag, I struggle as wildly as the silk ties trapping me to the chair allow.

I can't see, and I can't talk, and I...

… Can't breathe.

I can't get away, I can't stop this, and, oh God, I can't breathe.

“Shit! Will! Fuck!” Ethan exclaims breathlessly as, being nothing if not a quick thinker, he uses the knife to cut through the ties around my wrists before swiftly moving on to the ones around my knees. “Listen to me, it's okay. You... You just need to calm down,” he continues, placing his hand down on my shoulder as he uses the other one to pull off first my blind and then my gag. “Will? Shit. Come on. It's okay.”

Too caught up in my desperate need to gulp in as much air through my mouth as I can to focus on Ethan, I don't reply, don't even look at him, and just throw everything I've got into concentrating on my breathing.

I...

I've failed.

I've let... him... down and now I'm really going to be in for it.

Fool. Loser. Can't do anything right.

“Come on, Will,” Ethan murmurs pleadingly as, once again returning to the chair without me even having been aware that he'd even left in the first place, he carefully hauls me to my feet and, finishing what he'd started, quickly strips off both my shirt and what's left of my briefs before draping a sheet around my shoulders and leading me over to the sofa. “You need to calm down,” he adds, gently helping me down on to the sofa before, with a decidedly worried looking expression on his face, shaking his head and hurrying over to the refrigerator. Opening it, he grabs a bottle of water and, returning to the sofa, holds it out to me. “Here. Perhaps you'll feel better after a drink...”

Dutifully reaching for out for the water, I stop short of taking it from him when I notice that my hand is shaking and, feeling more and more useless by the second, just gaze at Ethan helplessly.

“Yeah... Maybe not, then,” Ethan comments as, frowning, he crouches down in front of me and twists the lid off the bottle. Bringing it up to his lips, he takes a long drink before resting it down on my knee and flashing me an encouraging smile. “It's lighter now, so...”

Closing my still dithery feeling hand around the bottle, I nod and, both leaning forward and all the time keeping my gaze locked on Ethan, take a tentative sip of the blissfully cold water. While it's safe to say it's going to take more than a drink to make me feel better, the water still feels good and, emboldened by my success at managing to bring it up to my lips without dropping it, I settle back against the sofa and continue drinking as, looking relieved, Ethan gives my knee a quick squeeze and stands up.

“I... Will...” His expression quickly changing to one of anguish, he shakes his head again and makes his way back over to the chair. Grabbing up what's left of both the ties and my briefs, he throws them in to the bin before picking up my shirt and trousers and draping them neatly over the back of the chair. He then returns the chair to under the table and once this, his final act of 'clearing away the evidence' is done, just comes to a complete, somewhat lost looking stop. Running his fingers through his hair, he looks over at me and, clearly not having any more of an idea as to what to do here than I do, settles for simply shrugging and giving yet another shake of his head. “I...”

Lowering both the bottle and my head, I clench my fingers tightly around the sheet and, closing my eyes, whisper, “I'm sorry...”

… I'm... sorry for not being able to go through with it, and for failing you, and for just being so Goddamn useless...

“You're... sorry?” Ethan murmurs with obvious disbelief as he walks over to the sofa and comes to a stop in front of me. “Will... No. You've got nothing to apologise for here. Do you hear me? Nothing,” he continues hoarsely. “In fact, I think you'll find that of the two of us I'm the one who should be doing the heartfelt apologising here, not you. I... I'm sorry. What I did to you clearly wasn't fair and...”

“I led you on,” I interrupt, bringing my hand up to my face and covering my eyes. “I... I offered something that I couldn't follow through with, and I... I'm sorry. I'm sorry for disappointing you...”

“Disappointing me? You didn't...” Trailing off, Ethan sighs heavily and very gently strokes his finger along my cheek. “Come on, Will. Look at me.”

Too far gone to hear anything other than an order, – as opposed to a simple, hopeful request – in Ethan's words, I immediately open my eyes and, dropping my hand away, jerk my head up. “S-sorry,” I stammer. “Just tell me what you want and I'll do it. Whatever you want, I...”

“The only thing I want if for you to both calm down and realise that everything's okay,” Ethan replies with another sigh as, perhaps feeling as though he's looming over me, he takes half a step back. “Will... Listen to me, please. You didn't disappoint me and you most certainly didn't lead me on. If you'd just think about it for a minute you'd realise...”

“I did! I did lead you on!” I exclaim as, feeling for some reason that I have to get this through to him, I force myself to meet Ethan's concerned gaze. “I agreed to something that I... I...”

“Hey... Shhh... You didn't lead me on and, seriously, you've got to stop this,” he murmurs patiently, holding my gaze and somehow, don't ask me how, even finding the energy required to give me a soft smile of understanding. “Taking my boredom in a direction I really, really shouldn't have, I put you on the spot with an ill thought out, ill advised, and, all things considered, incredibly selfish... request, and you, because it's what you do, all, I some times think, you ever know how to do, you... went along with it. You quashed your own, quite strong opinions on the subject and you tried to force yourself to give me what you thought I wanted...” Pausing, Ethan grimaces and crouches down in front of me. “Will... Can't you see... I'm... the one to blame here? I did this. Not you.”

“I let you,” I whisper as, unable to cope with being the cause of Ethan's obvious concern, I lower my head and gaze down at the empty water bottle I've still got clutched in my hand. “It... It's not your fault. It's mine. If I was normal I...”

“Okay. That's it. This stops now.” Standing up, Ethan takes the bottle from me and places it on the arm of the sofa. “Hoping here that I've already done my damage for the evening,” he murmurs cryptically, giving me what could well be a nervous look as he sinks down on to the sofa next me, “I'm just going to follow my instinct and do... this...” Draping his arm around my shoulders in perfect timing with the... 'this'... falling out of his mouth, he pulls me close and plants a quick kiss on the top of my head. “Hopefully it's not too soon...”

“It...” Touched, perhaps even just that little bit pitifully so, by Ethan's apparent desire to... work with me here as opposed to just cutting his losses and getting the hell away from me, I place my hand on his thigh and lean against him. “It's never too soon for this,” I reply quietly, glancing up at him as, resting my head on his bare chest, I press even closer to the familiar, reassuring bulk of his body. “Ethan, I... I know you don't want to hear this, but I really am sorry. For.. For everything. I never wanted you to have to see me like this, and I... I'm sorry...”

“And I'm sorry, too,” Ethan replies, tightening his arm around my shoulders as he places his free hand over mine and gently presses down on it. “I'm sorry for having inadvertently caused this... reaction... in you, and I'm sorry, make that... incredibly fucking sorry... that I don't know what it is I can do to help you through it...”

“You... You don't have to do anything...”

“Actually, I beg to differ.”

“You... Ethan... Please. You didn't do this...”

“Maybe not, but I sure as fuck reawakened it in you...”

“It... It doesn't matter.”

“It does, but as my only goal for the next five minutes is to succeed in getting you to both calm down and... come back to me, I'm not going to argue with you. So... Shhh... Let's just sit here quietly for a few minutes, yeah...”

Unable to think of a single thing that I'd rather be doing with my time, I nod and, hugging my sheet even more fully around me, close my eyes. I've fucked up, made a complete and utter fool of myself, and I doubt the sense of shame I now feel for having let Ethan see me like this will ever truly leave me, but I...

This.

I may not deserve it, but the knowledge that Ethan's giving every indication of wanting to help me through this, along with the weight of his arm around my shoulders as he keeps me in place next to him, just means the world to me. It really does. He could have kept going, or, having reached the conclusion that even as a means to an end I just wasn't worth either his time or effort, he could have left me to it. As it's not like it's never happened before, he could have even just left me tied to the chair.

But he didn't.

He realised that I was losing it and, instead of just ignoring my obvious distress and pushing on, he stopped everything dead, and...

He's still here. 

Holding me, and trying his best to help me, and I'm as grateful to him for his kindness and attention as I am embarrassed by the fact that he's now painfully aware of just...

… How... not... right I am.

I'm being stupid.

It's not even as though what he was doing was – a patch on what I was once used to – particularly bad. Hell, I think must people would even be hard pushed to call it kinky.

And, again, it was Ethan. Ethan, who I love and trust and whose touch is usually something I can't get enough of.

It wasn't...

… Him.

It's just...

In the darkness, and the silence, it...

It really was just like being back there again.

Trapped. Vulnerable. At his mercy.

It was a lifetime ago, and I thought I'd successfully put it all behind me and moved on with my life, but it appears now that that's not really the case at all. I mean, I remember it all. Every invasive, tormenting touch. The apprehension and confusion. The way he had me convinced that he was right, that – the body can't lie – I... did... enjoy it. The guilt trip that if I wouldn't go along with it he'd take it that I didn't love him.

Everything.

I remember all of it.

From the very beginning, to the way it ended, and all the way down to how it changed my entire life, I remember it all. 

And I still hate him for it. Not for the way he was ultimately responsible for altering the course of my life as I know I never would have ended up joining IMF if not for the way he'd so royally fucked – no pun intended – me over, but for what he put me through in the short term. I hate him for making me question both my sexuality and ability to trust others, and I hate him for how I can still feel the after affects of his perversions even now, twenty years later.

Oh, and while I'm at it I now also hate him for being the reason behind my incredibly embarrassing breakdown in front of Ethan and, as I can still only imagine things having one ending here, for killing any chance I might have had of making something out of our – unspoken, and, okay, fine, possibly only in my own mind – relationship. Ethan's friendship meaning the world to me, I'd hoped that perhaps one day we...

Never mind.

Choking back a sigh as my silly, foolish dreams dissolve around me, I try not to think about how this may well prove to be the last time that Ethan ever holds me and settle instead for moving on to the safer, slightly less depressing territory of cataloguing how I feel.

Ashamed. Crushed. Pissed off that I'm still allowing the bastard to fuck me over. Thankful to Ethan for... just still being here. Headachy. More than a little nauseous. Hot. 

Actually...

Make that, incredibly hot.

Opening my eyes, I slowly sit up and, as Ethan looks at me inquiringly, give a small shrug. “You have no idea how much I really don't want to have to say, let alone... do... this,” I murmur, “but I'm so hot that I just have to get up.”

“And as sorry as I am to have to let you go,” Ethan replies, flashing me a wry smile as he removes his arm from around my shoulders, “I'm actually too hot to argue, so...”

“Let's just agree that this weather isn't particularly conducive to sitting this closely together and... uh... go our seperate ways,” I finish, dredging up a weak smile of my own as I stand up and, wanting to rid myself off the sheet, glance around the room for my bag. Spotting it by the foot of one of the beds, I'm about to head towards it when the feel of Ethan's hand closing around mine stops me.

“Just not too seperate, I hope,” he comments, turning his hand over in mind and briefly entwining our fingers. “Will...”

“I... I just need to change into something a little less... suffocating,” I respond, gesturing over at my bag with my free hand. “Other than that though, you can trust me when I say that I certainly don't have any plans for venturing further than perhaps the refrigerator. You... Uh... You're stuck with me, in other words.”

“That's a relief, then.” Smiling, he releases my hand and relaxes back against the sofa. “Will.. You... are... feeling better, yeah...”

“Possible heatstroke, and lingering desire for the floor to open up beneath me and swallow me whole aside, I...” Nodding, I pull my hand away from Ethan's and start to walk over to my bag. “Yeah... I am feeling better.”

“Then that too is a relief.”

“You're telling me.” Reaching the bag, I pick it up, place it on the mattress and, despite knowing that I'll still need to have a shower before actually going to bed, pull out both my pyjama pants and a T-shirt. Dropping the sheet down on to the floor, I quickly put on the hopefully far cooler pieces of clothing and make my way over to the fridge. Opening it, I grab two bottles of water and, as Ethan watches me somewhat expectantly, carry them back over to the sofa. “Here,” I murmur, handing him a bottle. “If you'd prefer something else though, just...”

“Water's fine, thanks,” he interjects, shifting closer to the arm of the sofa and patting the cushion next to him invitingly. “If I sit up this end, and you sit up the other, I think we might be able to last a little longer without melting.”

“Well, there's only one way to find out...” Taking a seat, I take the lid off the bottle and hold it out towards Ethan in a toast. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” he echoes, tapping his bottle against mine before twisting the lid off and taking a long drink. “Now...” Returning the lid to the bottle, he fixes me with a searing gaze and fails dismally in his attempt to smile. “Will... You really are feeling okay, right...”

“I...”

“Oh, and at the risk of further upsetting your apple cart here, I want you to break the habit of what may well be a lifetime here and be honest with me.”

Slightly stung, even though I know it's well deserved and that I have no right getting huffy about it, by Ethan's comment, I take a sip of water and, in general, struggle to know how to reply.

“Sorry,” Ethan murmurs, stretching out his hand and lightly tapping his finger against my knee. “That... didn't exactly come out how I wanted it to and I apologise if you found it offensive. I don't...”

“If the cap fits and all that,” I interrupt faintly as, quite unable to look Ethan in the eye, I gaze down at the water bottle. “It... It's okay.”

“No. It wasn't,” he replies matter-of-factly, “and I want you to know that I wasn't implying that... uh... you're a liar, as that's just not how I see you at all. Will, you're... Let's face it, if it relates to something personal you're... shall we say... deliberately vague in terms of being fully honest. That's not a criticism, by the way, but you know as I well I do that...”

“Its just... I... I don't want to bother anyone with my petty concerns,” I whisper, aimlessly rolling the bottle between my palms as, just as I did earlier, I brace myself for what I know has to be coming. “Everyone's got their own problems, and I...

“Your concerns are no more petty than anyone else's and, while I'm at it, you're as entitled to feel as though you're able to share them with your friends as anyone else is,” Ethan states with what I take to be a small sigh of annoyance. “Will... I get that you're incredibly private, and that, hey, what you choose to share with people is your business and no-one else's, but...” Trailing off, he once again stretches out his hand and, this time, rests it warmly on my thigh. “Answer me this... Have I, or Benji or Jane, for that matter, ever given you any reason to believe that you constantly need to censor yourself around us? Because, if we have...”

“No...” Sighing, I stop staring at the bottle as though my very life depended on it and shift my gaze onto Ethan's hand as it continues to rest on my leg. “Of course you haven't. None of you have. You... All of you, you've never made me feel anything other than welcome and... uh... a part of the team. You're like family to me.”

“And do you hide yourself from your family, too?” he queries reasonably. “You say we're like family, but...”

“I... My parents are dead now, but... Yes. I... I was as economical with the truth with them as I am with you,” I confess, taking another sip of water in the hope of it soothing my suddenly incredibly dry mouth. “There were things I kept from them, the... uh... same thing that's caused tonight's little... meltdown, actually, and I did it solely because I thought knowing the truth would alter their opinion of me, and because I... I just didn't want them to know...”

“Well, despite that not exactly being the kind of response I'd been expecting, I'm... going to take it as a victory of sorts anyway and celebrate it by looping back to a variation of my original question,” Ethan responds, curling his fingers around the soft fabric of my pyjama pants for a few seconds before retracting his hand and settling himself more comfortably against the arm of the sofa. “And that's... I want you to tell me how you're feeling.”

Accepting that I don't, not if I want to fight – and I do – to keep Ethan's friendship, have anywhere to hide and that, really, nor do I have any choice open to me... other... than to both play the hand I've been dealt and to just hope for the best, I give a reluctant nod and go back to staring down at the water bottle. “How I'm feeling, huh,” I mutter. “Just... Let me tell you how I'm feeling. I have a throbbing headache, I'm yet to be convinced that I'm going to make it through to the morning without having to throw up at some point, I'm hot, I'm still embarrassed, although if I'm red in the cheeks that may just be because I'm so damn hot as opposed to wearing my shame like a Goddamn mask, and I... I'm really not looking forward to what's still to come...”

“What's to... Uh... Never mind. I'll get back to that in a moment,” Ethan replies with what I swear sounds like a dry snort of laughter. “Oh, and... Thanks for that. I asked and you certainly told me.

Shrugging, I take a mouthful of water before lowering the bottle on to my lap and beginning to aimlessly scratch at the label. “You asked.”

“That I did,” he agrees. “Now, unless you want to take more painkillers, I can't do anything about your headache and nor, unfortunately, can I do anything about the fact that the temperature in this room may soon begin to resemble that of a sauna. As for possibly going to throw up? Uh... All I'm going to say on that is that I hope you're able to give me a little warning first and... uh... move on. As for the embarrassment and shame, though... Look. I know I don't know what your reasons are for reacting the way you did, but... There's absolutely no reason for you to be either embarrassed or ashamed about it. Will... It happened, granted, it shouldn’t have, but it did and... now it's over.”

“It's not over,” I murmur, shaking my head as I sneak in a quick glance over at Ethan. Finding him gazing back at me with that concerned look on his face that I'm starting to think is his default expression for the evening, I quickly go back to staring at my oh-so-fascinating water bottle and sigh. “I... I have to, that is... I owe you... an explanation.”

“You don't owe me anything. I mean, don't get me wrong. I'm not going to sit here and say that I'm not curious, because of course I am. I did something to upset you, and...”

“It wasn't your fault.”

“As I'm fairly certain I said before, I beg to differ on that point. I'm the one who put you in that situation, and...”

“And I'm the one who let you. I could have spoken up or stopped you, but I didn't, and it's for that reason that the blame needs to be laid at my feet.”

“No. Absolutely not. If I hadn't, thanks to what I was looking at in Smith's bag, got the bee in my bonnet about how... hot... you'd look tied up, this never would have happened.”

“And they say history never repeats,” I whisper as, making my mind up once and for all that I really do have to get this over and done with, I force myself to both smile grimly and face Ethan. “Look. You wanted me to be more honest with you, so... To be perfectly honest, I don't want to be having to do this. It... It's something I've never told anyone before and... it's also something that I'd like nothing more than to take to my grave, but I... I'm going to tell you anyway because I feel, that is, I've decided that I have to.”

“It's okay, Will, you don't have to...”

“Yes. I do,” I retort, cutting Ethan off and fixing him with my very best attempt at a determined look. “I don't want to, but you deserve an explanation and I think, maybe, just maybe, it's something that I... need... to do.”

“In that case...” Lifting his water bottle in a toast, Ethan gestures for me to continue. “Just never forget though that you're doing this because you're wanting to, not because I'm expecting you to.”

Nodding as my relentless scratching at the label finally causes it to fall off the bottle, I stare at the sticky mess in my hands for a few seconds before leaning forward and dumping it all down on the coffee-table. “As I think I've already told you,” I state, simply by way of knowing that I may as well start at the very beginning as, settling back against the sofa, I tell myself that, having already got this far I now just have to – bite the proverbial bullet – push forward until the bitter end, “I skipped a year at high school and, because of this, I actually started at Stanton while I was still seventeen. Now, my parents, because they either thought I'd fall into the wrong crowd or get too easily side tracked from my studies if I had to live on campus, saw to it that I had my own apartment and, as I'm sure you're already imagining, it was all like an entirely new world to me. I was on my own, I could do whatever I wanted whenever I wanted to, and it...”

“Was amazing?” Ethan offers with a cautious smile. “As I would have given anything to have been independent at that age, I really... can... only imagine.”

“Oh... You have no idea,” I reply. “It all really was amazing to me. The freedom, the classes, even, given what I was used to, the size of the library. I loved it. I really did. I...” Pausing, I shoot Ethan a glum look and slowly shake my head. “I also fell in love. Head over heels, he was my moon and my stars and all that sort of bullshit, love. His name was Grant and he was a GTA, you know, a Graduate Teaching Assistants, for one of my classes. He was also, given that the gap year he took to travel around Europe turned into three before he came back to the States and started college, twenty-six which, yes, meant he was quite a few years older than I was. To me though... Shit. He was the bee's fucking knees. I lost my virginity to him, he taught me how to both kiss and suck cock, and...”

“And... while under normal circumstances this might be enough to make me want to meet the man and shake his hand,” Ethan interjects drily, “why do I already get the impression that whatever it is you're going to say next is going to leave me wanting to break his nose instead...”

“Because...” 

… He was a predator who took advantage of my stupid, wide-eyed immaturity? Deep down, there was just something inherently wrong with him? It's not nice to toy with the gullible? He knew easy pickings when he saw it?

Sighing, I stand up and walk over to lean against the wall by the television set. “Because you, unlike me, are a good judge of character, that's why,” I murmur, directing my response more to a spot on the floor in front of Ethan's feet than to Ethan himself. “But... If I'm going to tell this I have to do so... chronologically, so...”

“You loved him,” he prompts, more by way of a statement than a question.

“Yes.” I nod and, curling my hands into fists, dig my fingernails into my palms. “I loved him in a way that was probably borderline obsessive. He was my first... everything, and I was just blinded by him. But... Uh... Don't get me wrong. At first, I like to think I had good reason to fall so madly for him. He was attentive, and kind, and despite my inexperience he was always patient with me and, while my memories of him might be forever coloured by what happened later on, I'm sure we had some good times together. I... Contrary to what he might have done his best to convince me, I... I'm not a masochist and I wouldn't have stayed with him... long enough for him to do what he did... if I hadn't had reason to fall in love with him in the first place.”

“Will... Are you sure...”

“I remember the first time clearly,” I mutter, pressing ahead as though Ethan had never even opened his mouth. “Most of the others, with... uh... the notable exception of the last time as well, perhaps not so much because they just all blur together, but... The first time? That I definitely remember. Liking my apartment better than the shared room he had on campus, Grant, much to my great delight, of course, spent most of his time at my place, and...” Tilting my head back, I gaze up at the ceiling and, not for the first time tonight, wish that I was doing just about anything... other... than what it is I'm actually doing. What I'm about to tell Ethan is something I've never told anyone before and, having kept it to myself for so long, I just hope I'm capable of getting my side of the story across without...

Well...

Without just sounding pathetic, basically. 

“Will... Seriously. You don't have to...”

“It was just a normal night, you know,” I state in a quiet, flat tone that, by the sounds of movement coming from the sofa, cause Ethan to shift up to the other end in order to be able to hear me better. “My apartment being small, the living area and kitchen were open plan and I was studying at the tiny excuse for a dining table while Grant was watching a porn video from the sofa. Although I... uh... pretty much lacked the... pornography-appreciating-gene, it didn't really bother me that Grant liked it and, as always, I was just happy to have him with me. I could hear it, of course, and I can remember thinking to myself that it sounded perhaps a little more... hard core... than his usual fuck 'n' suck videos, but...”

“You'd made your peace with the fact he liked to watch it.”

“That's... That's a good way of putting it, actually. I... I'd made my peace with it. Then...” Swallowing hard, I lower my head and, unclenching my left hand, rub my fingers against my forehead. “That night, he... It started off so innocuously. He mentioned that it would be a turn on for him to see me tied naked to a chair, and... Get this! He even asked if I'd be willing to consider it. For him! He... He tried to play on my devotion to him by going on about how hot it would be, and how happy it would make him, and how he'd certainly owe me, but I... Despite both my love for him and the fact I'd never said no to anything he'd ever asked of me before, I...”

“Didn't want to do it,” Ethan murmurs with a heavy sigh. “Just... That earlier comment about wanting to break his nose... Why do I now get the impression I'll actually end up wanting to feed him his balls instead...”

“Because he... He didn't take no for an answer, that's why,” I reply dully. “And, you're right, I didn't want to do it. I didn't want to be tied up. It's not even that I didn't trust him as... As it just wasn't what I was in to. If he'd changed tack and invited me on to the sofa to... uh... just get him off, I would have been all over him in a heartbeat, but he didn't. He simply told me that I'd disappointed him and went back to staring blankly at the television. I... Feeling awful for having, well, denied, if not... defied him, I considered just giving up and letting him have his way, but I couldn't do it. The thought of being restrained left me feeling oddly panicked and I just couldn't bring myself to go through with it...” Pausing, I force myself to glance over at Ethan and, finding him gazing back at me with a sympathetic, yet at the same time slightly irate looking expression on his face, shrug. “That is, I couldn't bring myself to... willingly... go through with it.”

“Will... Listen to me, you don't have to...”

“I do,” I interrupt as, with another shrug, I drop my gaze and go back to staring at the carpet by Ethan's bare feet. “I've started this now and I have to finish it. Grant, he...” Trailing off, I take a deep breath and, slumping back against the wall, fold my arms across my chest. “I thought he was okay with my refusal, you know. He didn't go on about it or anything like that and, to my relief, after a while he simply got up from the sofa and offered to get me a drink. And... Uh... Before you jump to the conclusion of him just biding his time by plying me with alcohol, he... he didn't go down that path at all. No. He took the far more direct route by simply putting something in the Coke and knocking me out and, when I came to, I...”

“Don't tell me, let me...”

“I was naked, with both a blindfold over my eyes and a gag in my mouth and, yes, I was tied to a chair,” I whisper as having to give voice to the events of that dreadful night cause goosebumps to break out across my skin. “Oh... And I was so startled by this that I honestly thought I was in danger of having a heart attack. I couldn't see... or speak... or move, and, oh God, Ethan, I... I was just terrified. Then, and I was actually thankful for this, a familiar voice started whispering in my ear that... I looked so hot, and that he was going to make it good for me, and that I just had to let myself go, and... And that's how it started. He drugged me, did what he wanted to me anyway despite the fact I'd already told him that I didn't want to, and... Yeah...”

“This Grant, he sounds like a complete asshole,” Ethan mutters. “A real piece of work, in fact. Now, please tell me you...”

“When it was over,” I murmur, turning a deaf ear to what I just know Ethan's question had been going to be because, no, I most definitely did not come to my senses and immediately end things with him, “I was just... out of it. Whether this was because of whatever it was he'd drugged me with or what it was he'd just done, I was so off with the fairies that when he picked me up and carried me to bed, I... just allowed it. Hell, I may even have been asleep before he placed me down on to the mattress. The next morning, I... I tried telling myself that it had just been a dream, that there was no way he could have done that to me when I'd said no, but...”

“He had.”

“He had,” I echo as, my legs suddenly feeling as though they no longer want to hold me up, I walk back over to the sofa and sink down on to it as far away from Ethan as I can possibly get. “When I got up I discovered the chair with all the ties still hanging from it, and... just like that it was real. He really had done those things to me and, not only that, but there he was drinking coffee in the kitchen as though nothing had happened! I...”

“I really hope you told him to fuck off at this point,” Ethan states without a great deal of confidence as he swivels around to face me.

“You'd like to think I had enough brains to do that, wouldn't you,” I reply with a slow shake of my head. “But... No. I did, however, find the courage from somewhere to tell him that I hadn't liked it, and he... Grant, he just laughed and pointed to both the erection and inevitable climax I'd had while tied to the chair as proof that, hey, I had actually enjoyed it and just didn't know what I was talking about, and... Get this. I let him convince me that... he was right and I was wrong. My body had obviously liked what he'd done to it, so...”

“Your body though, the way it reacts doesn't mean you actually had to be in to it.”

“I know that... now.”

“I think you knew it then, too,” Ethan murmurs in a quiet, gentle tone as he slides his foot across the carpet and bumps it lightly against mine. “Will...”

Not quite feeling up to being touched at the moment, I pull my foot away from Ethan's and nod. “I just pretended not to.”

“Because it was just easier to make your peace with what had happened.”

“Because it was easier,” I confirm, resting my hands limply on my lap as I tilt my head back against the sofa. “I still loved him, so I... I made excuses. He was right, part of me had clearly enjoyed it. It made him happy. It... It wasn't too bad. If I gave him what he wanted he'd stay with me. And... When he did it again, when he... started things off by drugging me again so that I once again woke up naked and restrained, I...” Groaning, I close my eyes and close my fingers tightly around my pyjama pants. “I just took it. From that point onwards, oh, and he even stopped drugging me after the fourth or fifth time as he knew by that stage that I'd just dutifully take it it anyway, I just went along with it and let him do whatever he wanted to me. I always hated it, and I never stopped feeling... dirty... afterwards, but I let him because I thought it would prove my love to him.”

“Oh God, Will, I know you were young, but...” Pausing, Ethan sighs heavily. “Actually, on that... Not that it matters now, but were you even legal? Stanton being in California, if you were still seventeen...”

“Shit!” What Ethan's implying not being something I'd ever thought about before, I open my eyes and, sitting up, pull a face. “I can't believe I'd never considered this before, but... Get this. The bastard was so clever that he actually timed his... first move... for the week after my eighteenth birthday! I... Damn! I mean, I know now that he was an asshole, but...”

“He was also a clever asshole,” Ethan finishes with a dry snort. “Even if you had surprised him by making a complaint, you were still of the legal age of consent and it would have just been his word against yours.”

“He knew what he was doing, that's for sure,” I mutter. “He knew that I loved him and, thanks to my naivety, would do anything for him and, again, I know this now, he both played and used me to his own advantage. For five months he did things to me that I didn't want him...” Falling abruptly silent as an unwanted thought suddenly pops into my mind, I groan again and rub my hands over my face. “Ethan... Grant... What he did, it... I didn't want it, but I... I don't want you reading between the lines and thinking that it was worse than it actually was. I mean, it wasn't my scene and I never adapted to it, but it wasn't too... full on. He only left me tied up all night twice, and... uh... pain wise I've endured more out in the field, so... I... I was young, and I just... Maybe I... Maybe I'm still over-reacting now, or...”

“You might have been young, but that's still no excuse for what he did to you,” Ethan interjects as he shifts along the sofa and lightly trails his fingers along my arm. “Will... You don't have to make excuses for anything. What Grant did to you was wrong. You said no, and he ignored you. That, literally, is all there is to it. You don't have to justify your reaction to me, and you certainly don't need to try to paint that asshole in a better light as... Seriously. It's all down to him and him alone. He was the problem here, Will, not you, and you're never to think anything to the contrary. He was a predator who took advantage of both your youth and love for him and, again, that is simply all there is to it.”

Grateful, even though I choose to show it by jerking my arm away from him and pressing up against the back of the sofa, to Ethan for his soothing, factual way with words, I let them sink in for a moment or two before biting back a sigh and just getting on with it. “It went on for just over five months. Every couple of weeks he'd tie me up, usually only for a few hours, and... That was just how it was. By... focussing... on the fact everything else was pretty much the same as it had been from the beginning, I was able to just... go along with it. Then...” Grimacing, I sit up straight. “The very same week that I swear, although I'll never know for sure, he took a step back and let someone else... play... with me...”

“What?” Ethan exclaims, his expression one of obvious disgust as he gazes at me wide-eyed. “You're kidding me, right... He didn't...”

“As I was blindfolded, I'll never know for certain, but... knowing Grant's touch as I did, they... The hands touching me, they just felt different, so...” Pausing, I shrug and, this just being one of those things I really, really don't want to think about, let alone talk about, just head straight back on to the matter at hand. “Grant... Although I'd given him everything he'd wanted, he... He dumped me. And the reason for this was because... Wait for it... He dumped me because he found me boring. I... I forced myself to be someone that I wasn't for him, and he... found me boring! As I was still stupid enough to love him, I couldn't believe it.”

Sighing, Ethan shifts even closer to me and, after a second or two of hesitation, drapes his arm around my shoulder. “Oh yeah... Complete asshole doesn't even begin to cover it,” he murmurs as, giving in to my need for his familiar touch, I relax against him. “But... As hard as the break up must have been for you, I have to admit to being greatly relieved to hear that, well, it didn't just keep going.”

“Hard? You... Fuck. You have no idea,” I reply in a dry tone as, glancing over at Ethan, I roll my eyes. “Just call it getting in some practice before Croatia if you like, but I blamed myself for what happened, for... having... uh... been so boring. Of course I did. I mean, it had to be my fault, right? I blamed myself for not having been enough for Grant and I... I lost it. Hell, I was so devastated by having clearly failed him that I just gave up. I dropped out of school, went home, didn't argue when my parents insisted I see a psychiatrist and, generally, just hid myself away for the better part of a year. My parents blamed themselves for having let me go off to college when, obviously, I was still too young to be on my own, and... I blamed myself for everything else. For being... Young. Stupid. Naive. Gay. Boring. You name it and I blamed myself for it. I... I even questioned my sexuality, you know... Maybe all the homophobes were right and there... was... something sick and wrong about being gay. Maybe something like this never would have happened if I was straight. Maybe I asked for it...”

“You didn't ask for anything,” Ethan murmur, fixing me with a no nonsense look as he closes his hand around my upper arm and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “Will... Listen to me. You were young, and you were played. Being gay wasn't a factor in any of it at all and I hope your psychiatrist was able to get this through to you.”

“As I couldn't bring myself to tell her what Grant had done to me and had made a very deliberate point of making her believe all my problems stemmed from the doubt I had over my sexuality, that's what she always focussed our sessions on, so... Yeah. By the time she'd finished with me I'd at least made my peace with the fact that, yes, I really was gay and that, no, it wasn't something I had to do anything about.”

“You didn't tell her...”

“No. I... I just couldn't. I hid the truth about his... uh... predilections because I just couldn't bring myself to talk about them. Like I said earlier, this... This really is the first time I've ever told anyone about it.”

“But... She still helped, yeah?”

I nod and, for what really does feel like the first time in far too long, smile. “Yeah. She did. She convinced me that it was okay to be gay and, wanting me to get off my depressed ass and actually do something, what she also convinced me to do was to go out and find myself a sport or physical activity to do, you know, just to get me both out of the house and meeting other people. Now, I'm not saying I embraced the idea with enthusiasm, or even that I had any specific idea as to what I might like to do, but knowing that I had to do... something... I signed up for a self-defence class for no other reason than it was held in the same building my psychiatrist was in, and...” Pausing, I smile a little more brightly and curl my fingers around one of the pockets on Ethan's cargo pants. “I only did it because I could see the sense in her suggestion and because it was just... there, but I really took to it! I loved going to the classes, and I was good at it.”

“Having seen you fight, no shit you're good at it,” Ethan replies, flashing me an easy, genuine looking smile of his own. “Don't tell me though that it was this class that eventually led you to IMF...”

“Pretty much. I enjoyed it so much that even when I went back to college I both kept it up and excelled at it, and, yeah, my skills brought me to the attention of an IMF recruiter and... The rest is history.”

“So, really, in a round about sort of way, the fact you're even here with me now is down to Grant...”

“Uh...” I nod. “Actually... Yeah. I only took up the classes at the encouragement of my shrink, and the only reason I was seeing her in the first place was because of him, so...”

“I still think he's an asshole,” Ethan murmurs, squeezing his arm around my shoulder as he looks me in the eye and shrugs, “but...”

“At least something good was able to come out of it,” I finish as, marvelling yet again at Ethan's innate way with words, I plant a quick kiss on his cheek. “It goes without saying that I could have lived without both... Grant, in general, and the black pit of despair I existed in after he'd finished with me, but... Yeah. I am here because of him and I think that's what I need to focus on, not... not what he did to me or... how it all came back to me earlier...”

“Well, as I don't exactly want to focus on that either,” Ethan retorts, smiling ruefully as he follows my lead by planting a kiss on my cheek, “how about you just get to the end of your story and we move on, yeah...”

“Sounds good to me,” I agree, “and, as it happens, my... sad little story... is basically at an end, anyway. I went back to college, avoided anything that so much as... hinted... at sex for a couple of years before determination and curiosity kicked back in and I went through a bit of a slutty stage just to, you know, prove that I could, and... Life, it just went on. I graduated, joined IMF as a grunt, eventually took the plunge and let myself get close to someone who, after sixteen months together and, just after I'd found the courage to tell him that I loved him, told me that I was... just a bit of 'fun' and that we'd never have anything serious together, and... Here I am. I'm... economical... with the truth because I'm a big fan of self-preservation and because it's never really got me anywhere in the past, and I don't expect anyone to ever love me for who I really am because, hey, going on past history there's something clearly wrong with me, but... I... I'm not only here, but I'm also exactly where I want to be. So...” Pausing, I give an airy shrug and force my lips into what I hope comes across as having some resemblance to a smile. “It's all good.”

“If it helps, you're where I want you to be, too,” Ethan responds quietly, if not even a little bit sadly. “But, Will... You've got to stop being so hard on yourself. While I've now got a far better understanding as to... just why it is you're the way you are, you've got to realise that you're now respected and amongst friends, and... that you... can... be yourself with us. That... You can be yourself with me. You... You don't have to hide your feelings from me and, if you say no to me which, let's face it, you should have said earlier, I'll respect it.”

“I thought I could go through with it,” I whisper. “In fact, if I hadn't been blindfolded, or you'd kept talking, I probably would have made it through, too, but... As you now know, it was just all too similar to what Grant used to put me... uh... do to me, and... You know something?” Brightening, I hold Ethan's gaze and, feeling better than I have all evening, flash him a genuine smile. “I'm actually glad that things happened the way that they did. I mean, I could have lived without breaking down on you, but in the long run it was perhaps for the best. I forced myself to... uh.. give you the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the sad and sorry truth, and... Now you know the full story, the full story that you never would have gotten out of me otherwise.”

And, what's more, it's true, too. Sure, it was far from pleasant, and I already know that there will be a part of me that will always be embarrassed by how I reacted in front of Ethan, but in terms of us being able to move forward...

Yeah.

Definitely, or so I'm really hoping anyway, for the best.

“I also know what... not... to do to you when I'm bored,” he replies with both a grin and another fleeting kiss to my cheek. “Will, I'm not going to lecture you here or anything like that, but... you're never to forget that you're okay. You're not damaged, or hard work, or... abnormal... because you don't like being tied up, or... unlovable, or... any of the things I suspect you think you are. You're okay, more than okay, actually, and you're my friend, someone I'm actually incredibly happy to both know and have in my life. Oh... And, one last thing, though... While I know it might sound like a big ask of you, I want you to know that you can always be honest with me. So... Deal? You're to be comfortable enough with me to speak your mind, and, along with never tying you up again, I'll... just try to be here for you in whatever way you might need me to be...”

Feeling, it just has to be said, as though an enormous weight has been lifted from my shoulders, I stand up and, as a spur of the moment idea pops into my head, hold my hand out towards Ethan. “In whatever way I might need you, huh...”

“Uh... With the exception of venturing out in this Godforsaken weather to find you, say, a cheeseburger or something like that, the answer is... Yes. I'm here for you,” Ethan replies, giving me a bemused look as he nonetheless places his hand in mine and lets me help him up from the sofa. “I'm taking it, yeah, that you've got something in mind though.”

“I know you've had a shower already,” I reply, leading him over in the direction of the bathroom as I mentally cross my fingers that I'm on to a winner here, “but I haven't yet and... I was wondering if you'd be so kind as to wash my back for me...”

Laughing, Ethan tightens his hand around mine and, speeding up, gets to the bathroom door in front of me. “I think I can manage that,” he retorts, letting go of my hand to both open the door and gesture me through it. “Now... If I promise not to ask you this again tonight, will you tell me how you're feeling? How you're... honestly... feeling?”

“I still have my headache, and I'm still hot, but other than that I'm... good.” Smiling, I stroke the back of my hand along Ethan's cheek as I slip past him and make my way straight over to the shower. “Actually, make that, I'm... really good,” I add, opening the glass door and fiddling with the taps until I've got the water to just the right, barely warm temperature. “Maybe the catalyst could have left a bit to be desired on both our parts, but, believe it or not, I'm actually relieved to have everything out in the open now. You know the truth now, and I know that I have to be more truthful with you, so... All in all I think, perhaps against the odds, we've had a fairly successful night, don't you?”

“Against the odds, definitely, but I agree with you in that it's still been quite successful,” Ethan replies, pushing his cargo pants down before stepping out of them and walking naked over to join me by the shower. “I wish things had happened differently, but we're here now and, I don't know about you, but I think we should just make the most of it.”

“I think we should... definitely... make the most of it,” I state, quickly backing my words up by stripping off my pyjamas, stepping into the shower cubical and once again holding my hand out to Ethan. “I'm sorry that it took what it took to make me come clean, but we're here now and as I for one am glad of it, let's...”

“Just move on,” he finishes, following me into the shower and, with a somewhat wolfish looking smile, immediately wrapping his arms around me and pulling me against him. “Will, I... Before we put all of this fully behind us, I... That is, I know the timing may not be great, that, hell, it might even come across as though I'm just making one last ditch attempt to placate you or get back in your good books, but... Uh... What I'm fumbling over saying here is... that I just want you to know that I had something of an epiphany tonight.”

“Such as... I actually have my reasons for being the way that I am?” I offer, hugging Ethan back as, wanting to stand fully under the cooling stream of water, I gently pull him into the centre of the shower.

“Well, while that certainly comes into it too,” he replies, locking his hands together and resting them on the small of my back, “my real epiphany occurred when you... uh... freaked out in the chair. I saw what I'd done to you and, hopefully better late than never, I realised two things simultaneously. One, was that I instantly hated myself for having so clearly upset you, and the other was... that there isn't a single thing I wouldn't do for you, that...” Falling momentarily silent, he kisses the tip of my nose and, leaning slightly forward, rests his forehead gently against mine. “Feeling as though I need to thank you for your honesty tonight by, in my own way, replying in kind,” he continues in a soft whisper that I can only just hear over both the howling winds outside and water flowing in the shower, “I'm going to break the habit of a lifetime by both being the first one to say it, and... by telling you that... I know now that I love you. Did you hear that? I love you, William Brandt. I love you because you mean the world to me and I know, now more so than ever, that I'm incredibly lucky to have you in my life, to... have you like this.”

Hardly believing my good fortune at how things – all the way from my life in general to Ethan's boredom giving him the random idea of wanting to tie me to a chair – have turned out, I settle my lips on Ethan's and give him a very thorough, lingering kiss, before pulling back and uttering words I thought I'd never hear myself say again.

“You know something? I kind of happen to love you, too,” I murmur thickly. “I love you for your brilliance, for the way you've always been able to make me feel, and... for just accepting me for what I am. I also love you for having read between the lines of everything I told you tonight and for knowing to... say it first. Ethan, I...”

While I mightn't have thought I'd ever feel brave enough to say it again, now that I have and, more importantly, now that I know my feelings are actually returned, I...

I doubt I'll ever tire of saying it.

“I love you...”

~ end ~


End file.
